


Buy The Stars

by uhuraprime



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:58:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhuraprime/pseuds/uhuraprime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve may not date girls, but he sure is good at making them date each other (otherwise known as the one where Clint and Tony are assholes, Pepper's mourning a guy she never even loved, and Natasha really needs to get laid).<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, We Don't Own Our Heavens Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It only takes two lonely people  
>  _To fuck love up  
>  _And make it evil.___

Natasha doesn’t know why she’s angry. It’s not like she had anything important planned, and Clint’s been doing this for months now. She should be used to it. Still, as she crawls into the old, barely-working minivan that she and Clint share and backs out of their parking spot, she’s practically fuming.

It’s really not Steve’s fault. She knows this. But she can’t help but think that none of this would’ve happened if the guy had just said no to a date with Clint. Hadn’t he heard the stories?

“I need a new best friend,” she murmurs to herself, turning the radio up and leaning back into her seat. She’s lying, of course, but it calms her down a bit.

\--- 

Natasha’s seen Clint drunk dozens of times. In sophomore year Clint’s parents were in Sweden for six whole months, and the guy had house parties almost every weekend. The problem is, Clint wasn’t always such an unbearable drunk. As Natasha watches her best friend literally _straddling_ the poor captain of the football team, she feels an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

Being straight edge, Natasha never really understood the wonders of alcohol. _'It’s an acquired taste,'_ people (Clint) would tell her, but she hated the stuff and she wasn’t about to be peer pressured into relying on it. Still, straight edge as she was, Natasha had never judged Clint for drinking. Not until recently.

“Oh God,” she murmurs and rushes toward her best friend. “What the hell, Clint?”

Clint’s head whips around and Steve ducks, just nearly missing a painful collision with his drunk date’s skull. “Natasha?” Clint slurs. “Why’s Nat here, Steeb?”

“I’m here to pick you up, Barton,” Natasha groans, grabbing her best friend by the sleeve and dragging him off of Steve. “You’re scaring the poor guy.” She flashes Steve a sympathetic smile. It’s not his fault Clint has major baggage. Natasha wraps an arm around Clint’s shoulder to try to hold him. She fumbles a bit, letting out a groan. For a skinny guy, Clint’s dense as hell.

“I’m sorry for ruining your night, Natasha,” Steve murmurs, joining her to help hold Clint up.

“Ruining? Steve, before you called my plans were with my Harry Potter boxset and an eight-person pizza. I’m glad to have a little excitement.” It’s a lie, obviously. Natasha loves her solitude. Her ideal date is with herself. But she can’t tell Steve this, not after the way Clint came onto the poor guy.

Steve shoots Natasha a sympathetic smile, and she’s not sure if it’s because she’s such a loser or because she picked a best friend who’s an even bigger one. “You know, Natasha, you’re entitled to have fun, too,” Steve murmurs, and then yelps, eyes widening when Clint plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“You’re cute, Steeb,” Clint slurs. “So blonde and muscley! Do you work out?”

“I play football, Clint,” Steve reminds him with a chuckle. The guy has the patience of an angel ( _he's got to,_ Natasha' decides, _being best friends with Tony Stark and all_ ).

“That’s hot,” Clint breathes, and promptly passes out.

Natasha points to the minivan and she and Steve work together to settle Clint into the backseat without waking him. Natasha gives up on buckling him in, considering the things weren’t made to hold you horizontally, and climbs into the front seat. “You need a ride, Rogers?” she asks brushing a strand of scarlet hair behind her ear.

Steve shakes his head, but Natasha thinks he's only being polite. “Tony dropped us off, I’m sure if I call him –”

“Come on, it’ll take like five minutes. We’re practically neighbors.” Natasha needs more time to apologize to the guy.

Steve sighs, offering a soft smile in gratitude and grabbing at the rusty old door handle. He slips into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him, and leans back to look at Clint. “He didn’t even drink that much, I – I don’t know how he got this drunk, honestly.”

“Don’t sweat it, Rogers,” Natasha says with a small smirk. Clint’s a pretty sneaky drinker. She learned that the hard way. “So are you planning on taking my best friend out again?”

“Well, um, I hadn’t really thought about it,” Steve mumbles, and he’s so transparent.

“Too busy thinking about Tony Stark?” Natasha’s red lips curve into a knowing smile.

“What? I – is it that obvious?” Steve groans and slaps his hand across his face.

“Just to me,” she assures him, taking her eyes off the road for a moment to look him in the eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Steve nods, fumbling with his hands, and lets out a sigh. “Is there anyway I can repay you?”

“For what, Rogers?”

“For, you know, saving me. You could’ve just let me wait it out, I... I mean, I’m the one who agreed to the date in the first place. It's kind of my fault. I knew Clint's reputation, I just... Isn’t there something you want?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. It's not like Steve has anything to give her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, good seats at one of my games? I bet I could get Tony to get you one of those new Starkphones for free! Or maybe there’s a – a girl you like?” Steve puts emphasis on the word ‘girl,’ and Natasha has to stop her jaw from dropping.

“Is it that obvious?” she murmurs, trying to keep her cool and failing miserably.

Steve chuckles. “Only to me.”

Natasha’s eyes scan the cracked road before her, and she remembers when she was little and all the roads in town were perfectly smooth. She decides time ruins everything. Maybe that’s what happened to Clint. Time ruined him.

She wonders if it really is only Steve. Do other people know? Are they just too nice to tell her? Does she just scream ‘lesbian’? She wants to ask him. Would that be too desperate? It’s not like she’s ashamed. She loves being gay. She just doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business.

“You don’t drink, right?” Steve asks.

Natasha nods. “Never saw a reason to.”

“I get that,” Steve admits. “Say, I know this amazing girl. She’s that way, too, and she’s very smart and beautiful. I think you would like her. I could set the two of you up.”

Natasha's not sure if 'that way,' means gay or straight-edge. She doesn't bother asking. “I’m not much for blind dates.”

Steve clears his throat, and out of the corner of her eye Natasha sees him turn around to check on Clint. “Why not?”

“Because whenever people set me up with a girl and say I would like her, she ends up having nothing in common with me except that she likes vagina,” Natasha says, and wonders why she’s telling Steve this.

“I’ve been there,” the blonde admits. “How do you think I ended up on this date with Clint? I mean, the guy’s nice, but we’re not exactly... compatible.” Natasha nods. “Fair enough,” she says, pursing her lips. “So you really think we’d hit it off?”

“Sure do,” Steve says, and Natasha actually trusts him. That’s her first mistake.

\---

Natasha has dealt with hungover Clint dozens of times. She knows exactly how to make him somewhat tolerable. As she pours the mix into her waffle maker, she thanks whatever god may be up there for sending her Aunt Hill to New Hampshire for the weekend. Having a half-naked, hungover boy in her bed wouldn’t have gone over well (not that she and Clint haven’t shared beds before, but it’s different with her new guardian).

“Do I smell waffles?” she hears, and when she turns around her best friend is standing there, hair a mess.

“Well, considering I’m making them, I suppose so,” she snorts, rolling her eyes.

Clint leans against the kitchen counter. “Are you mad at me?”

Instead of answering Natasha opens the waffle maker and points at the masterpiece inside. “Eat up,” she growls, a little louder and more aggressive than she’d intended. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

“Ouch, not so loud,” Clint groans, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Natasha’s not sure what’s been going on with Clint these last few months, but whatever it is he needs to get over it. She makes her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, stripping her clothes once she’s inside and pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Her phone beeps from where it’s sitting on her dresser and grabs it, smiling when she realizes she has a text from Steve.

_u free friday? –SR_

_I think so. Why? –NR_

_cuz ur about 2 go on a date with the girl of ur dreams –SR_

Natasha sighs. She’d almost forgotten about the blind date. She doesn’t even know this girl, much less how she’s supposed to entertain her. She can barely keep Clint happy for ten minutes, and the guy is amused by everything.

This is a bad idea.

This is a _really_ bad idea.

There is no possible way this could end in anything but disaster. Natasha’s not meant for a relationship, especially with someone she’s never even met. She can’t do it. She won’t. Steve will just have to find another girl for his friend.

“Natasha?” Clint calls from the kitchen. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What do you want, Barton?” she calls back with a sigh. Sometimes she wishes Clint was still scared of her, because he used to leave when he asked her to. Now he’d only laugh.

“Can you drive me to Tony Stark’s house on Friday night? He’s throwing a party and I heard there’s gonna be cute boys.”

Natasha contemplates it for a moment. She’s really not willing to aid Clint in ruining his life any further. She knows if she drives him there he’ll just get smashed and she’ll have to stop everything and drive him home. Aunt Hill will scold her for bringing a boy home. She might even get grounded. “Sorry Clint, but I’ve got a date.”

_Have her pick me up at 8. –NR_

\--- 

“It’s simple physics, Clint,” Bruce assures the archer as he leans against his closed locker. It's not even first period yet, and the two of them are already arguing.

“Who the hell even says physics is true?” Clint yells. “ _I_ don’t stay in motion! Pretty sure I’m a body!”

Natasha snorts. “That’s because you’re lazy as hell.”

Clint opens his mouth to speak but stops abruptly, just standing there like an idiot with his eyes locked on something behind the redhead.

“Hey, Natasha.”

Natasha groans. It’s not that she isn’t happy to see Steve. The guy’s nice enough. She’d just hoped she wouldn’t have to tell her friends that the date she was going on was with a girl she’d never met. It's bound to come out now, considering the guy can't lie for the life of him. "Hi Steve,” she says tentatively, and he frowns at her tone.

“Um, about Friday –” Steve starts, but Clint cuts him off with an overdramatic gasp.

“Holy shit, Natasha, you’re going on a date with _Rogers_? Come on! I know you don’t have much self worth or whatever, but my sloppy seconds? Really?”

Out of the corner of her eye Natasha catches a glimpse of Bruce shaking his head, staring at Clint in anger. The two of them have gotten used to him being an asshole by now, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

“What? You don’t think I could score a football player?” Natasha asks, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow.

A loud, obnoxious laugh escapes Clint’s lips then, and Natasha wonders if he came to school drunk. He’s sure acting like it. “Frankly? No.”

Natasha’s not sure why she does it. Maybe she feels bad for Steve. Clint’s treating him like he’s not even there. Or maybe she’s just sick of her best friend bing a dick to her. Either way, something possesses her to grab Steve by the back of the neck and press her lips to his. The football player yelps, eyes widening, but Natasha just pulls him closer by his belt loops and eventually he gives into her.

Natasha may be gay, but the kiss is good, and she knows Steve swings both ways, so what’s the hurt? If it makes Clint angry, then she’s done her job. Steve's a gentle kisser, which is kind of disappointing. She'd hoped the guy would have some kind of wild side, but apparently not. When Natasha tries to gain entrance into his mouth he just smirks and hums against her, an unspoken 'too soon' in the air. She bites at the blonde’s lip playfully before pulling away, flashing Clint a victorious smile and wrapping her arm around Steve's waist.

“What the actual _fuck,_ ” Clint breathes, and Natasha hates that he has the nerve to sound betrayed.

“We were planning on getting to that part later, actually,” Natasha practically spits, and tugs Steve down the hallway with her.

Once they round the corner Steve pulls away from Natasha and gasps, wiping his lips with the gray fabric of his sleeve. His cheeks are flushed, and Natasha almost feels sorry for embarrassing him. Almost. “What was that for?”

“Revenge,” Natasha says with a shrug. “Hey, don’t look so upset! Pretty sure I saw Tony giving us the stink eye on our way out.”

Steve’s cheeks turn even redder at the mention of his best friend, and Natasha has to keep herself from rolling her eyes at that. The guy is whipped. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” she asks, moving to lean against a locker in the empty hallway.

After a moment of hesitation Steve stands beside her, lightly hitting his head against the back of one of the lockers and groaning. “Uh, Pepper asked me for your address so she could pick you up. Could you write it down for me?”

Neither of them have a piece of paper so Natasha ends up writing it on Steve’s arm. “Pepper's a strange name. Does she go here?”

The blonde nods his head slowly, jumping when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. He pulls it out, groaning when he sees the screen. “Tony texted me.”

“Is he just _raging_ with jealousy? I bet he's preparing to proclaim his undying love to you, condemning me like the slut I am for tempting you like I did with my womanly powers.”

“Shut up," Steve says playfully, and even though his rudeness is playful Natasha claims it as a victory on her part. She got Steve Rogers to stop being so polished for a second. Who knew he had it in him?

“Go get him, tiger,” Natasha says with a smirk, shoving at Steve until he finally starts to get a move on. She slaps his ass for good measure before he leaves, and once he’s gone she lets herself slide down the locker behind her and land with a thud on the ground. She is _so_ dead. Clint’s never going to talk to her again (not that it’d be such a bad thing, what with how he’s been acting lately).

Natasha wracks her memory for a classmate named ‘Pepper,’ but for the life of her she can’t remember one. It’s not as if she knows many of the people in her grade anyway. Most of them are scared of her. Apparently carrying a pocketknife and threating to use it when you’re angry doesn’t appeal to many teenagers. Go figure.


	2. We Only Own Our Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I know exactly what I want  
>  _And who I want to be  
>  _I know exactly why  
>  _I walk and talk like a machine.____

Pepper misses Phil. She misses the sound of his laugh, and the jokes he makes, and the way he kisses her lips. _Kissed_ , she supposes. It’s all past tense now.

Her friends try to help her. Tony builds her a robot (“ _His name is Snickers and he’ll never leave you to go fuck some drunken twink in the ass,_ ” he says, and Pepper doesn’t bother reminding him that he himself likes to ‘fuck some drunken twink in the ass’ from time to time). Rhodey tries to get her mind off of things by distracting her with jokes, but they all just fall flat. Steve doesn’t want to be intrusive, so just smiles at her. Constantly. She likes Steve’s approach best. She doesn’t need yet another friend meddling in her business.

It’s not that Pepper ever loved Phil. She simply enjoys him. The guy is nice enough. He's cool and collected. He's attractive, not to mention a pretty good lay. He tells funny jokes and gets the job done. But although Pepper goes both ways, she’s always preferred soft curves to hard edges, and just because Phil satisfied her didn’t mean she hadn’t wished for more sometimes. In all, Phil wasn’t that great. He was satisfactory, at best. Definitely not _the one_.

But Pepper loves routine, and Phil had been a constant.

It’s probably kind of unhealthy, but Phil had been there for her for almost three years. The two of them had been through everything together. Phil comforted her when her house burned down, and she made him forget about his mother’s death. When Tony was kidnapped he kept her sane. When they found Tony, Phil let her cry tears of happiness into his shirt until it was completely soaked.

They had been each others’ rocks.

Friends more than lovers, off the mattress, but rocks nonetheless. And he threw that away, for some random guy at a club. She’d thought about asking him if it was worth it, but she knew the answer. Of course it was.

The sound of a car beeping outside her father's house building rips Pepper from her thoughts. She grabs a granola bar, swinging her purple backpack over her shoulder, and runs downstairs as fast as she can. She learned the hard way in freshman year that Tony doesn’t wait for anyone.

“Morning, Pepper,” Tony grunts as she enters the car, not bothering to wait for his friend to buckle before booking it down the street.

Pepper used to wonder why Tony’s always in such a hurry to get to school. It’s not like he genuinely enjoys the environment. Tony may be a genius, but he can’t stand school. It wasn’t until a few months ago that she realized _Steve Rogers_ also comes in early, and Tony's speeding to get a few extra minutes with the guy.

Pepper isn’t sure if she should be excited that Tony has a crush, or upset that he’s made her walk to school several times just so he could flirt with a hot blonde.

“Good morning,” Pepper sighs, taking a bite of her granola bar and staring out the window.

“How’s Snickers?” Tony asks, and it takes Pepper a minute to realize he’s talking about the robot.

“I locked him in the closet,” she mumbles and Tony gasps.

“That is a complex bit of machinery that I spent a lot of time and money on for you, Pepper!”

“Yeah, a complex, _annoying_ piece of machinery,” Pepper teases.

The truth is, she practically adores the thing. Snickers does whatever Pepper asks of her. She even helps Pepper pick out her outfits in the morning, but Pepper will never give Tony the satisfaction of knowing she actually enjoys one of his robots.

His head might get even bigger. And then he’d explode.

When they reach the school Tony practically somersaults out of the car, sprinting toward the school at an embarrassing speed. Pepper jogs to trail behind, even though she’ll inevitably be the third wheel in a gay boy flirting session (the worst kind). It can’t even be called flirting, really. It’s just Steve blushing as Tony talks about mechanics and other things the blonde could never dream of understanding.

It’s actually really awkward, and Pepper’s not even a part of it.

Tony reaches Steve in record time, with Pepper trailing after at a socially acceptable speed. When Pepper catches up with the two of them she’s expecting an awkward conversation, but instead she gets a nervous smile (Steve) and a confused frown (Tony).

“Pepper, can I talk to you for a second?” Steve asks biting his lip, and Tony looks like he’s about to shit himself with jealousy. 

All Pepper can think in this moment is _Please don’t ask me out._

“Pepper, are you free this Friday?”

Pepper’s jaw almost drops. _Oh my God_ , she thinks. Steve Rogers is asking her out. Right in front of Tony. What does she do? What does she say? How does she let him down easy? Is this why he’s always acting so nice to her? “Steve, I-I’m sorry, but I’m really not interested in you that way,” she manages, face hot and mind whirling.

“Oh, Pepper, I –”

“It’s not that you’re not, like, _attractive,_ I just –”

“I was actually –”

“Steve, this is all very sweet, and –”

“Pepper, you really gotta listen to me for a sec –”

Tony groans, grabbing both of them by the mouth. “Shut up!” he shouts, breath heaving and face flushed. “Steve, why the hell are you asking Pepper out?”

Steve mumbles something from under Tony’s hand and the brunette quickly pulls his palm away from the other boy’s face so they can hear him. 

“I’m _not_ , Tony,” Steve groans, letting out a deep breath. “That’s not what I was trying to say.”

Suddenly Pepper feels like an idiot. She jumped to conclusions way too quickly. Now both of the boys are staring at her, and she feels like turning invisible or running away. Or both.

Tony frowns. “What were you going to say, then?”

“I was going to say there’s this great girl I know who is looking for someone to date, and I thought Pepper would be perfect for her.”

Pepper doesn’t recall telling Steve she likes girls. It’s not that she’s never been with a girl, but most of her serious relationships have been with guys. Girls may be attractive, but they’re also very scary. She doesn't talk about her sexuality. She's only told Tony.

Immediately, Pepper’s on the defense.

She really has to stop that.

“What makes you think I even want to go on a date right now?” Pepper practically growls, and Steve’s face falls. "And who told you I was into vagina in the first place?"

“I-I’m sorry, I was only trying to help,” Steve stutters.

Tony snorts. “Pepper’s just bitter and scared, Steve,” he assures the blonde. “She’s still mourning a relationship that wasn’t even real. You can’t blame her.”

In her ever-so-rational mind, Pepper knows Tony’s trying to mess with her. She knows he wants to get into her head so she’ll agree to this date and make Steve happy. She knows it’s a trick, but she's still furious. Who is Tony to say this about her? Who is he to say she's scared? She isn't scared! Or bitter, for that matter. She takes a deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like Phil taught her – and refrains from punching Tony square in the face.

Pepper never used to be this _angry_ all the time.

“I’ll do it,” she says finally, after she’s calmed down, because maybe Tony’s right. Maybe she needs to get over Phil already. It’s not like they really loved each other, anyway.

“What?” Tony says, gawking, and Pepper rolls her eyes.

“I’ll go on the date,” Pepper breathes. “I’ll do it.”

Steve fumbles in his pockets, and after a moment pulls out a small piece of lined paper, folded in half. He holds it out and Pepper takes it in her hands, opening it up. Inside is a number written in an inky red scrawl. She recognizes the handwriting from somewhere, but for the life of her she can’t remember where.

“Who’s writing is this?” she murmurs as she pockets the paper.

“Well, I can’t tell you,” Steve says, cocking his head to one side. “That’s the whole point of a blind date. You aren’t supposed to know who it is.”

The bell rings before Pepper can rip Steve’s hair out for failing to mention that this is a _blind date _.__

She is so screwed.


	3. And If You Don't Know That By Now, Then You Don't Know Me That Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I feel numb most of the time  
>  _The lower I get,  
>  _The higher I climb.___

Clint and Natasha don’t fight often (at least, not to this extent), but when they do Bruce usually takes Clint’s side. The guy’s pretty high-strung, and apparently an unsupervised Clint makes him ‘anxious’ (Natasha thinks the right word is _horny_ , but she’s not about to say anything about that. It's Bruce’s business). See, Clint’s _unstable_. He needs a friend more than Natasha does.

And that’s always how it is, isn’t it? Natasha doesn’t need it. Natasha will be okay. Her ability to cope is her defining trait.

Maybe she’s just being bitter though. She prefers being alone, after all.

Still, it’d be nice if someone was here right now to tell her if her makeup looks all right. It’d be nice if someone could make sure she doesn’t have any stray hairs sticking up. It’d be even nicer if someone could step back from all that petty crap and care enough to ask why she prefers being alone in he first place.

Natasha looks in the mirror, eyeing her outfit warily. She isn’t sure how nice she’s supposed to look, but if there’s anything she’s learned from being friends with Clint Barton it’s that dressing down is always the way to go. She’s sporting a pair of skinny jeans and an old, faded AC/DC t-shirt (Clint’s). Her short red hair is covered with a beanie she stole from Clint’s bedroom a few months before. In short, she looks like herself. Well, herself in Clint’s clothing. Nothing unusual there.

Natasha doesn’t think there’s any use in pretending to be more appealing than she is just so she can get into this mystery girl’s pants.

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket and she pulls it out, rolling her eyes when she sees the Caller ID. Doesn’t Steve have something better to do than check in on her every half hour?

“Hello?” she sighs as she presses the phone to her ear.

“I’m outside.”

Natasha’s forehead creases. “I thought she was going to pick me up.”

All Steve says is, “Change of plans.”

Natasha groans. She makes her way to Aunt Hill’s bedroom as quickly as her converse-clad shoes will take her. Her legal guardian (aunt, as she’d call the woman if she thought of her that fondly) is sitting on her bed, watching what looks like _Yours, Mine & Ours,_ and reading through what Natasha assumes is paperwork. Basically, nothing’s new.

“I’m going out, Aunt Hill,” Natasha murmurs from the doorframe.

For a moment Natasha thinks her aunt hasn’t heard her, but then Hill turns to face her, glasses resting on the brim of her nose. Her dark hair is wrapped in a tight, neat bun, and she’s wearing these expensive-looking silk pajamas that always make Natasha feel a little inferior when she’s in her t-shirt and a pair of Clint’s shorts. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” is all Natasha says, and her voice comes off nastier than she means for it to. She attempts to soften her tone, though she’s not sure why this woman deserves that. “I’ll be back by midnight, promise.”

Natasha’s Aunt pulls herself out of bed then, making her way over to her niece and reaching out a hand to pat her head hesitantly. “Natasha, you know I’m trying, don’t you?”

“Of course, Aunt Hill.” Natasha feels like a robot. Maybe she is.

“I know you liked living with the Bartons but your parents would’ve wanted me to take care of you. And I know I wasn’t around much when you were growing up, but I always wanted to be. Work demanded otherwise.”

“I get it,” Natasha promises, and her voice cracks a little. She and Aunt Hill don’t talk about her parents. Or the Bartons. Or anything, really. Sometimes Natasha misses living with Clint and his family, but at times like these she’s glad to be away from her best friend. There’s only so much of Clint Barton one girl can take. “I know you’re trying, Aunt Hill.” She doesn’t think she’s lying.

Her Aunt presses a kiss to her forehead then. “Don’t get into too much trouble, now,” she breathes against the skin there. “Keep your phone on and be sure to tell me if you’re running late.”

“Yes, Aunt Hill.”

“Call me Maria,” her Aunt says, and Natasha thinks maybe this time she will.

\--- 

Steve’s car is the oldest piece of crap Natasha’s ever seen. It’s even older and more run-down than the minivan, and that’s saying something. She thinks maybe it’s from the stone age, but at least the thing is tidy.

“Sorry about the ride,” Steve says, as if he can read her mind. “It was my Ma’s. We’ve had it since college. Can’t bring myself to sell it. God knows how it hasn’t broken down yet.”

“That’s kind of... sweet,” Natasha admits. She’s a bit sentimental herself. Maybe she and Steve are more alike than she’d originally thought. “So how’d things go with Tony?”

Steve’s ears turn red. Natasha smirks. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says finally, and if Natasha was someone else she’d probably be begging to hear the details. But she’s not. So she doesn’t.

“So, why the sudden change of plans?” she inquires instead, and Steve looks happy with the new topic.

“Pepper's car broke down.”

“Are we going to pick her up?”

“No.”

“Why not? Doesn’t she need a ride?”

“Well, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Steve says, pouting like a puppy. Even with his eyes on the road he’s irresistible. Natasha wishes she liked dick. Steve seems like a good boyfriend. “Tony’s driving her, and we’re going to meet at the restaurant.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “And what are you and Tony going to do while me and ‘ _Pepper_ ’ get our flirt on?”

“Homework,” Steve squeaks, ears red, and he actually seems genuine.

Natasha snorts. Like Tony’s going to last that long with Steve in a heated car, with all the sexual tension the two of them radiate.

Steve pulls into the parking lot then, and apparently they’re early because the place is nearly deserted. The few cars that are parked aren’t extravagant enough to be Tony Stark’s. Natasha clears her throat, climbing out of Steve’s car and leaning against the hood.

“You nervous?” Steve asks as he gets out and moves to lean next to her.

“Not really,” Natasha murmurs, sucking in a deep breath and focusing her gaze on the darkening sky above them. She really isn’t.

Why would she be? It’s not like she knows the girl. What’s the use in being nervous? It could go great. Steve seems like a good enough judge of character. He knows when two people are compatible.

Maybe if she was a smoker this would be less uncomfortable.

At least it'd give her something to do.

They don’t have much to talk about. Steve brings up school. Apparently AP Chemistry is really complicated, but Natasha wouldn’t know. Natasha’s suddenly glad she’s gay. Boys are boring. And dumb.

Natasha’s about to bring up the fact that she cut herself shaving when the sound of a horn beeping cuts her off. She rolls her eyes as Tony comes cruising down the parking lot in a fancy car she doesn’t know the name of because _she isn’t a car-obsessed loser like Bruce_.

Suddenly her heart’s beating at a million miles per hour. So much for not being nervous.

“They’re here,” Steve practically cheers, and Natasha has to hold back her ‘ _Thank you, Captain Obvious_ ,’ because Steve is her friend and friends don’t make fun of each other. That’s what Bruce always says, anyway.

Tony’s shouting something Natasha can't quite make out through the window as he pulls up, practically jumping out of the car like some kind of overexcited puppy. And he’s got those big, brown eyes just like a dog's. Natasha will give him that.

A tall, thin figure steps out of the car then. ‘Pepper’ is wearing a pink floral dress with a cute leather jacket and a pair of ballet flats Natasha knows she’ll be envying for the entire night. Natasha feels underdressed. Her eyes make her way up her date’s body until she reaches that face, and her heart stops.

This isn’t ‘Pepper.’ This is Virginia Potts.

This is the girl she met at summer camp when she was fifteen years old, wide-eyed and barely conscious of the meaning of the word ‘lesbian.’

This is the girl who gave her her first _real_ kiss.

This is the girl who took her virginity.

Natasha thinks she’s going to puke.


	4. All My Life I've Been So Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's my problem, it's my problem_   
>  _If I feel the need to hide  
>  _And It's my problem if I have no friends  
>  _And feel I want to die.___

**3 Years Before**

Jarvis isn’t Tony’s father but sometimes it feels that way. Even before Howard and Maria died in that car crash he’d been around more than Tony’s biological parents. He’s been the one to help with science projects. He’s been the shoulder to cry on. He’s been the best father figure Tony could ask for. And it isn’t just Tony.

Pepper has her own set of Daddy issues. Her father’s on business more often than he’s home. Her mother’s been gone for as long as she can remember. She’s been on her own since she was in diapers. When she met Tony – and by extension, Jarvis – she found a family. Eventually Rhodey became family, too. Even Phil, although that feels a bit incestuous considering he’s currently harboring a colossal crush on her.

For every time Jarvis has been there for Tony he’s been there for Pepper, too. And now he’s dropping her off at summer camp.

Pepper doesn’t know why she’s crying. She’ll only be gone for a summer. She’s going to have fun. She knows this. She’s been on her own her entire life. It’s not like this is a new experience.

Jarvis plants a kiss on her forehead. It should be awkward, but it isn’t.

“I’m gonna miss you, Jarvis,” she murmurs into his shirt.

“No you aren’t, Miss Potts,” Jarvis coos, pulling away from Pepper and ruffling her hair. “You’ll have so much fun you’ll forget all about Master Stark and I. We’ll have to spend weeks trying to convince you that we used to be your friends.”

Pepper smiles weakly, pulling Jarvis in for one last hug and taking her luggage from his hands. “Tell Tony I love him,” she whispers, taking a shaky breath. “And make sure Rhodey doesn’t blow anything up. You know how he gets when Tony's being annoying.”

“Should I tell Mr. Coulson the same?” Jarvis asks, a knowing smile creeping across his lips.

“Tell Phil not to get over me too quick,” Pepper giggles. “Tell him I have a surprise for him when he gets home.”

She knows Jarvis won’t tell Phil any of this. She knows he’s way too protective of her to send any boy (or girl) flirtatious messages from her. Even Phil. But she wants Jarvis’ approval. She wants him to be the first one to know she’s going to give into Phil’s pleas and go on a date with the guy. She’s going to give it a try. Anybody who knows Pepper knows that when she takes a risk, she needs all the support she can get.

With one last wave Pepper’s on her way. She’s excited for new experiences. She’s excited for no drama. She’s excited to get away from relationships and mixed signals and worrying about her weight. She decides this is going to be the most relaxing summer yet, and then she runs into Natasha Romanov. Literally.

The two of them collide, their respective belongings flying everywhere, and Pepper lands right on top of Natasha with an ‘ _oof!_ ’

There’s a moment of confusion, and then Pepper’s face is bright red. She’s crawling off Natasha as fast as she can, spewing out apologies and wondering why she can’t go three seconds without embarrassing herself. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you!”

Natasha takes a moment to regain her composure and then she just smiles, grabbing the hand that Pepper’s reached out to her, and shakes her head. “Don’t sweat it, Barbie,” she says with a wink, and once she’s on her feet she gives Pepper a quick one-over. Pepper can practically feel the judgment rolling off of her.

“ _Barbie_?” Pepper mumbles, and looks down at herself. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and tight gray shorts, with her favorite pair of pink converse. Yeah, she’s _feminine_ , but she’s never considered herself a ‘Barbie’. What does that even mean? Is it an insult?

“Come on, you’re decked out in pink, your hair’s perfect, you’re clumsy in that kind-of-cute way boys can’t resist. We’re at a _summer camp_ and you look like a proper beach babe,” Natasha snorts. “If we were in any other setting you wouldn’t give these kids a second glance. You’re a living Barbie doll.”

Pepper can feel the heat rise to her face, and this time it isn’t out of embarrassment. “You’re pretty quick to judge for someone who’s never even had a _conversation_ with me,” she growls.

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we,” Natasha says, crossing her arms over her chest – and, all right, Pepper’s a little jealous of that chest of hers – and offering yet another smirk.

Pepper just clenches her fists, grabs her bags off the ground, and turns to face Natasha. “You’re infuriating,” she spits. “And wrong.”

As she makes her way towards the check-in area she vows to prove this girl wrong. What’s the point in judging people at first glance? Pepper may be girly, but she’s not mean by any standard. That's a stereotype. It's sexist and demeaning. She’s not even popular at school. At least, she doesn’t think she is. She comes to this camp to make new friends, and all she’s made this year so far is an enemy.

The encounter leaves a sour taste in her mouth for the rest of the day.

**\---**

The next time Pepper talks to Natasha – whom she refers to as ‘The Sour Lemon’ in her mind, considering they don’t even know each others’ _names_ – is at the soccer game. It’s a tradition at Cedar Ridge to have a soccer game every Saturday. Pepper knows because she’s been coming here since she was five years old. Turns out these are the exact kind of people she likes to hang around, and she’d give each one a second glance in _any_ setting. What does The Sour Lemon know?

The Sour Lemon is sitting opposite Pepper in the stands, and the two of them keep making eye contact throughout the game. The Sour Lemon won’t stop smirking at her. Pepper feels like there’s some joke she isn’t getting. Rude as she is, the girl is cute, and Pepper thinks she could get used to staring at that face. Minus the smirk.

After the game Pepper says bye to Peggy and Carol – two of her friends from school that she’d coaxed into coming to Cedar Ridge when they were nine or ten – and makes her way across the field. She can’t take another second of that horrible smirk. She wants to know _why_.

She catches up to The Sour Lemon pretty quickly, tapping the redhead’s shoulder with one finger.

“What do you want, Barbie?” Natasha snorts as she turns to face Natasha. “I’m a little too busy to give you a manicure right now. You’ll only get your hands dirty anyway.” There’s a girl behind her – Mary Jane, Pepper thinks her name is – and Wade Wilson, too. They both laugh. Pepper feels a little betrayed. She’s known these kids for a decade, and they’re siding with The Sour Lemon, a girl they only just met. They’re laughing at her expense.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks, and eyes the small group of The Sour Lemon’s friends crowding in around them. “Alone.”

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them,” The Sour Lemon says. Then she smirks. Nothing new.

“Yeah, and you can repeat it to them later if it’s really that interesting,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes, and grabs Natasha’s wrist. She tries to pull the girl toward her, but Wade’s on her in seconds.

“You really think that’s such a good idea, Potts?” he asks, and she feels like his fingers are digging into her flesh.

“I just want to talk to her,” Pepper says, looking up at Wade with her eyebrows creased. “What’s gotten into you, Wade?”

Pepper and Wade were never close. It's not that she didn't like him. They just weren't all that similar. She'd always considered them friends, though. She'd always thought of Wade as someone who would return a smile in passing, and who could tell a good joke every once in a while. She'd never taken him as someone to change for some random girl at a summer camp. She didn't think Mary Jane was that kind of person either.

“Let go of her, Wilson,” The Sour Lemon says then. “Save the violence for football practice.”

“You sure, Natasha?” Wade murmurs, loosening his grip on Pepper’s shoulders a little as he does. He says it like he’s being rejected. Pepper wonders what kind of a person Natasha is, if this is how she’s making people act.

“I’m sure. I’ll catch up with you guys.”

In a few moments they’re alone. The only Pepper can say is, “You sure know how to pick them.” And then, “Your name’s Natasha?” She should be angrier. She should tell this girl to get the fuck away from these nice people, but she can't. Maybe she's fallen under Natasha's spell, too.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I sure hope so, ‘cause that’s what everyone calls me.”

Pepper doesn’t bother being insulted. She’s starting to think this is how Natasha treats everyone.

“Why do you hate me?” Pepper asks.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you keep making fun of me?”

Natasha sighs, giving Pepper a sympathetic smile. It’s the first time, Pepper thinks, she’s seen something besides a smirk on that mouth. She wonders if Natasha knows how well smiling suits her. The redhead takes a deep breath like she's about to conquer something really challenging. Pepper hopes she's not that challenge. “To be honest? I’m intimidated.”

“ _Intimidated_? Have you met yourself?” Pepper practically gasps. This girl is the most threatening person she’s ever met. Every word she says comes off as a threat. She probably eats her cereal with poison instead of milk. Pepper can only imagine how hard she punches.

“Come on, Barbie – I mean, sorry. Virginia. That’s your name, right?”

“That’s my name, yeah,” Pepper says. Usually she hates being called by her real name, but it doesn’t sound so bad coming out of those lips. She can’t even bring herself to correct the girl.

“You’re, like, _perfect_. You’re pretty, and put together, and girly and – Jesus, you apologized when I ran into you! Who does that? I can’t stop thinking about it! It's fucking weird! I'm not even this way around boys!”

Pepper smiles, crossing her arms over her chest. What an interesting turn of events. Here she was, thinking this girl hated her guts, when it turns out it’s quite the opposite. Who would’ve known? Natasha eyes the redhead, finally letting herself appreciate the other girl’s physique. She’s always liked girls a little more than guys, even though she’s never really been with one. This could be her chance. “Do you _like_ me, Natasha?”

Natasha’s eyes widen. “What? No! I’m a girl! _You’re_ a girl! How would that even work?”

Pepper's heard about Natasha. They call her the 'Black Widow,' because she goes through guys and breaks their hearts. She can't stay with one guy for too long. Apparently she gets bored. Pepper's starting to think maybe it's not the people she's bored with, but their gender. She's taking a huge risk here, but maybe this is the new her. Maybe Virginia Potts takes risks.

Pepper rolls her eyes and looks around the soccer field. It’s empty, but she still leads Natasha under the bleachers to give them a little privacy. She leans in close to the other girl’s face. She can almost taste Natasha’s cherry chapstick. “Don’t be so close-minded, Natasha. It's the twenty first century,” she breathes, and gently presses her lips to the redhead’s. Natasha pushes her away then, eyes wide, and Pepper starts to think maybe she’s making a mistake. Maybe she’s reading this wrong. Maybe she should’ve just stuck to the plan and saved herself for Phil. It’d save her a lot of trouble, dating a boy. She isn’t sure why she always gets herself into these situations. She’s ready to apologize, even opens her mouth to do so, but then Natasha’s on her, crashing their lips together with a desperate need Pepper’s never experienced. She reciprocates the kiss almost instantly, biting at Natasha’s lip and taking the groan she receives as an invitation to explore the other girl’s hot mouth with her tongue. The two of them stay there for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other. Exploring. Learning.

**\---**

It’s not now that Pepper realizes she loves this girl. It’s not later, either, when Natasha tells her friends to start treating Pepper with the respect she deserves. It's not when Natasha stops breaking boys' hearts. It’s not when Natasha skips out on lunch to watch her basketball game. It’s not when she almost falls off the rock climbing wall and Natasha catches her, or when she explores the shorter girl’s body and learns how to make a thousand different sounds escape those kissable lips. It’s not even when they sneak out of their cabins and meet at the lake, giving each other everything. When they rock against each other until the dim morning light starts to shine. It’s not when she hears Natasha cry out “Virginia, oh _God_ ,” so loud that it must’ve woken up at least a dozen of their peers. It’s not when Natasha’s too into the things Pepper’s making her feel to even care about that.

No, Pepper realizes she loves Natasha the day she leaves Cedar Ridge. Natasha kisses her hard, on the lips, right in front of everyone, and she’s never loved anyone more. There’s nothing she wants to do more than stay there forever, wrap herself up in Natasha and forget everything except for that scent, and those lips. Pepper realizes she loves Natasha, and it scares her.

It scares her so much that she leaves then. Doesn’t even say goodbye. She gets into Jarvis' car, thanks God he doesn't ask her about Natasha, and leaves. She doesn’t save the phone number Natasha gave her. She doesn’t even try to call. She goes home, finds Phil, and gives him everything she hasn’t already given Natasha. It’s all she can do to save herself.

Because the truth is, Pepper’s a coward. She’s scared of commitment and she’s scared of being hurt. She knows Phil won’t hurt her, because she’ll never love him enough to let him.

Phil is her safety net. Phil will keep her safe.

And so Pepper forces herself to forget everything. That body, those lips, that brain. She makes herself forget every curve on that body. She makes herself forget the girl with the sharp tongue. The girl who called her Virginia, the girl she _let_ call her Virginia. It’s better like this, anyway.


	5. All in the Name of Being Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pink lipstick stains,_  
>  Cigarette butts.  
> I lie in bed.  
> I hate my guts.

There’s no screaming. There’s no fighting. No begging for answers. No breakdowns. No tears. Natasha just stares at Virginia and Virginia stares back. The two of them exchange sad smiles, and then they’re introducing themselves. It's like nothing ever happened in the first place.

“I’m Pepper Potts,” the lighter haired girl says, and Natasha can’t help but think the name change feels like a goodbye. Goodbye Virginia. Goodbye summer. It's three years late, but it's a goodbye.

“Natasha Romanov,” she says, holding out a hand, and ‘Pepper’ reaches out to shake it.

They walk into the diner, both knowing how much this date means to their respective drivers. They can’t end it, as much as they want to. Tony and Steve need to get together. The two of them are soulmates.

h

It’s an unspoken agreement between Pepper and Natasha. They don’t even have to think about it. What can they say? They’ve always gotten each other on another level. It’s just too bad it couldn’t have worked out the way Natasha had hoped.

The dinner is cordial enough. They share a pizza – one half cheese, one half Hawaiian – and make polite conversation. Neither brings up Cedar Ridge. Neither wants to remember.

Virginia – _Pepper_ – drinks her tea, while Natasha opts for coffee.

It’s quiet. The silence is heavy. But it isn’t awkward. Natasha won’t let it be awkward. She won’t let the words left unsaid weigh her down like bags of sand. It’s not worth her time.

The date ends. They say goodbye.

“I had a wonderful time,” Natasha says, and they both know she didn’t. They both know she was dying inside.

“As did I,” Pepper replies.

Natasha wants to say, _If I'm such great company, why did you never call?_ Instead she walks Pepper to her car, waves goodbye to a disheveled Tony, and gets into the car with Steve without a word.

“How was your date?” Steve asks. His shirt isn’t buttoned correctly. _Sloppy_.

“Great,” is Natasha’s curt reply. Steve takes the hint and doesn’t try to talk to her again.

**\---**

Clint calls her at 2 AM. His words are slurred and Natasha can hear music blaring in the background. “How was your date with Rogers?” he drawls, and then burps loudly. There’s a thump on the other line, and Natasha thinks he’s fallen over.

She hangs up.

**\---**

Clint calls her again at 7 AM, voice shaky, and tells her he woke up naked in the woods somewhere. Natasha spends three hours searching for him with Bruce. They find him less than two minutes off the highway, curled up next to a tree with tears streaming down his face. Natasha gathers her best friend in her arms. She wraps him in a blanket and kisses his face, singing him Russian lullabies in the backseat of Bruce’s car.

Their friendship isn’t perfect, but Natasha loves Clint. He may be a pain in the ass but he’s her pain in the ass, and right now she needs him just as much as he needs her.

**\---**

The first thing Clint says when he wakes up in Natasha’s bed is, “Natasha, are you, like, _straight_ now?” the second is “I’m hungry.”

“No, Clint,” Natasha murmurs, stroking her best friend’s hair and kissing his cheek. “I am still very, very gay. And Maria is making crepes downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

“Who’s Maria?”

Natasha smiles, pulling Clint to his feet and offering him a pair of her sweatpants that were originally his in the first place. “Just an old friend,” she assures him. “Now go shower and get changed. You smell like booze and desperation.”

“You smell like softball and dog shit,” Clint sneers, and Natasha slaps his ass with the towel she’d planned on handing him. This is how they work.

**\---**

“Let me guess: you went to a party last night, your boyfriend got drunk off his ass, and you let him sleep in your bed even though I’ve asked you a million times not to.”

“Actually, Maria, that’s not what happened,” Natasha chuckles, bumping her hip against her aunt’s as they prepare the crepes. Her aunt’s mouth curves into a smile when she notices the new name. Natasha’s chest feels tight, and she swallows back a few tears. It’s been a hard couple of days. “Clint went to the party all on his own. I was on a date.”

“Ooh, a date! With that nice Rogers boy, I assume?”

“Actually, no,” Natasha replies, and suddenly she doesn’t feel so happy. It’s a good a time as any to come out and say it. She’d rather be kicked out now than later. “Steve’s gay.” She's testing the waters. She hopes her voice doesn't shake.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Natasha breathes. She swallows hard, looking away from her aunt and taking a deep breath. “And I, uh. I’m not much into boys. So.”

“You aren’t?”

“Aunt Maria, I’m a lesbian.”

Her aunt stares at her for a moment and Natasha feels her heart drop to her feet. This won’t be the first time a guardian kicks her out of their home because of her orientation, but she’d actually been starting to get attached to Maria. This shitty old apartment had become her home. She thinks of a million punishments this woman will come up with. Sending her to a nunnery, enrolling her in a ‘correction program.’ Maybe she’ll even set Natasha up with a few ‘well-meaning’ boys. It’s nothing the redhead hasn’t seen before.

“Well why didn’t you say so earlier?” Maria says finally, lips cracking into a smile, and Natasha lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Now I feel like an idiot for thinking you had a boyfriend!”

“Oh, thank God,” Natasha groans, and melts into her aunt’s tight embrace. “I thought you were gonna kick me out.”

“And why in the world would I do that, Natasha?”

Natasha breaths out a shaky sigh into Maria’s neck. She wraps her arms around her aunt’s waist, closing her eyes tight to blink back the tears. _I don’t know why,_ she thinks. _I’m just glad you didn’t._

“I have a feeling I’m interrupting something,” Clint says from the doorway, and then he’s being pulled in for a group hug that’s so tight Natasha thinks she sees stars.

“So I’m guessing you told her,” Clint groans as he’s squeezed by the two women beside him.

“Yeah,” is all Natasha says.

And for a minute, things almost feel okay.

**\---**

When Natasha was young she used to hoard things. She wasn't allowed many luxuries in the orphanage: certain toys, sharp objects, and ‘inappropriate’ magazines. She would keep each forbidden book and toy in a shoebox under her bed. She rarely used them, or even wanted the things in the first place, but she liked to know she had them. She'd kick the box under her bed and forget about it. This is also how she deals with her feelings for Pepper. 

She doesn’t bother telling Steve the she already knows Pepper, or that the girl took her everything and broke her heart. She assumes Pepper hasn’t talked, either, because Steve is still treating Natasha like a person and not a puppy someone threw into a river.

Everything is fine until Steve asks Natasha to join him on a double date.

“It’ll be fun,” he assures her. “Pepper can come too. You like Pepper, right? You must. She's Pepper. It’s just that Tony and I hang out all the time, but we’ve never really gone on a _date_. We don’t know how it works, and without another couple around we’re afraid it’s just going to feel like hanging out.”

Natasha sighs. She’s a sucker for Steve’s puppy dog eyes. “I – I guess I could do it,” she decides. She crosses her fingers behind her back and prays Pepper will have enough sense to say no.


	6. Still, You'd Like to Think You Know Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mini Chapter)  
>  _Got a hole inside of me,_  
>  Living with identities  
> That do not belong to me.

_Three Years Earlier_ :

“Virginia, do you think I’m pretty?”

Natasha’s standing in front of the mucky, floor-length mirror in her cabin. She’s donning a blue Nike sports bra and boy shorts, with her long, curly red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’s removed the little makeup she usually wears, and she’s standing sideways, examining herself.

Apparently her best friend back home (Clint, Pepper thinks his name was) says it’s healthy to examine yourself from time to time. Pepper’s not sure she believes that. “Of course you’re pretty, Tasha,” Pepper says from where she’s kneeling on Natasha’s bed, reading _Catcher in the Rye_ and braiding her strawberry blonde hair. “But it’s not like that determines your worth as a person or anything.”

“Well, yeah.” Natasha steps away from the mirror and plops onto the mattress next to Pepper. “I know that. And I’m not, like, insecure about myself or anything. I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Pepper murmurs, closing her book and gesturing for Natasha to move so Pepper can braid her curly red hair.

“Why you chose me,” Natasha replies, quietly, as she moves so she’s sitting, cross legged, with her back to Pepper. Pepper runs her fingers through Natasha’s scarlet locks and it sends shivers down her spine. She’s always loved the feeling of someone playing with her hair. “Like, you could have anyone at this camp and you chose the bitchy girl who calls you names and makes fun of your freckles.”

Pepper sighs, pressing light kisses along Natasha’s shoulder as she fingers through the other girl’s hair. _Over, under_. “It’s not that easy to explain,” she breathes, smirking when the other girl shivers at the feel of her hot breath on that milky white skin. _Under, over_. “I didn’t _choose_ you. We just happened. And by the way, I know you love my freckles.”

“Yeah, but –” Natasha pauses to let out a shaky sigh. “I just feel like – like, I don’t know. You’re too good for me.”

“Tasha, hey,” Pepper coos, grabbing the other girl’s shoulders and pulling for Natasha to face her. She drops the half-braided hair and it falls against Natasha’s barely covered back. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so important. “Don’t say that.”

Natasha turns her body and kneels so her knees are touching Pepper’s. She lets out another shaky breath and bites her tongue to keep from crying. She’s learned from a young age that crying means weakness, and despite what Pepper’s tried to teach her she still can’t separate the two. 

“Natasha, you’re the best person I know.”

Pepper grabs Natasha’s chin and Natasha lets the lighter haired girl tug her face closer to hers. Their lips touch and begin to move together. Pepper gently pries Natasha’s mouth open with hers, slipping her tongue in and leaning even closer to the curly haired girl. “You are wonderful, Natasha,” Pepper breathes against Natasha’s lips as she pulls away. “Please never think otherwise.”


	7. You Keep Buying Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When it's late at night,_  
>  I'm so dissatisfied,  
> In the wait for an empty life.  
> We hassle in the moonlight.

A lot of things have changed about Natasha over the years. She’s taller. She’s more muscular. She’s grown a few inches, although Pepper’s grown a significant amount more. Apparently her friend Bruce convinced her to start taking self-defense in their Sophomore year. She’s discovered a love for guns (adding to the extensive weapons collection she _already_ had when she and Pepper first met). Despite all of these things, Pepper can’t seem to stop herself from focusing on Natasha’s hair.

It’s unclear when exactly the redhead decided to cut off her curly locks, but whenever it was Pepper wishes someone would’ve been there to tell her “No.”

It’s not that the cut looks bad. The thick, red curls that end just under Natasha’s ears frame her face perfectly. Pepper thinks she may have even dyed it darker. In all honesty it suits Natasha perfectly.

It’s just that Pepper misses braiding Natasha’s hair.

She’s sitting across from Natasha now, wearing a denim dress and her favorite pair of red high heels. Her hair is wrapped in a tight, high ponytail and she’s wearing her favorite shade of red lipstick. She’d spent hours getting ready for this double date, as embarrassing as it is to admit.

Natasha, on the other hand, is wearing her usual skinny jeans, hoodie, and a purple t-shirt that reads ‘ _I do my own stunts_ ’ (Pepper knows it can’t be Natasha’s shirt; it’s exactly the kind of tacky motto she would hate). The two of them contrast in a way that’s so much more obvious than it was three years before. Pepper feels a bit sick.

“What about you, Pepper?” Tony asks from beside her. Pepper turns to face him, face painted with confusion.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, ‘ _What about you, Pepper_?’”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “No, I heard that part. What about me _what_?”

“How do you feel about the current status of the marriage equality movement?”

It takes a moment for Pepper to register the question. She lets out a heavy sigh and takes another sip of her soda, regretting the day she decided never to drink alcohol. “I think it’s pretty damn sucky that queer people aren’t granted the same rights as everyone else,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact with the three people she knows much be staring at her now. “But it’s not exactly top priority.”

“Not top priority?” Tony gasps, and he's really not a very good actor. “What else could be top priority besides being granted the rights every human being deserves?”

Pepper stirs her drink with her straw. She makes the mistake of looking up, only to lock eyes with Natasha. She can’t bring herself to look away from those baby blue eyes as she continues. “Oh, I don’t know. The queer kids dying on the street, the people being killed for their sexuality or gender identity, the people killing _themselves_.”

Natasha’s eyes soften at Pepper’s words, and the lighter haired girl finally blinks her eyes to pull away from the gaze. If she felt sick before, she’s on her deathbed now.

“So you’re saying it’s not important?” Tony asks, and Pepper knows he’s egging her on. They’ve had this conversation thousands of times. He just wants Natasha to hear it.

“Of course it’s important, Tony,” she sighs, looking up at her best friend with a frown. “In a perfect world we would’ve already achieved marriage equality. But I’m not going to apologize for valuing the lives of queer people over the desire a select few have to get married.”

“I never really thought about it like that,” Steve says thoughtfully, and of course he hasn't. No one ever does.

Pepper doesn’t notice the way Natasha’s staring at her as she pokes at her meal with her fork. She doesn’t notice the soft smile that crosses the redhead’s face, or how Steve’s eyes light up at the sight of it. She doesn’t notice, but it happens.

**\---**

Pepper’s not sure how she and Natasha ended up in her bedroom, Natasha fingering through Pepper’s record collection and Pepper braiding her pin straight hair, but it almost feels like old times. Almost.

“You’ve got a lot of 80’s stuff,” Natasha observes as she pulls out a record and inspects the cover art. It’s from AC/DC’s _Back in Black_ , one of Tony’s favorites. Pepper’s not as big of a fan as he is, but she likes the music more or less. She’s more of a Guns N Roses girl herself.

“You know I love my oldies,” Pepper says, tying off her first braid with an elastic and endeavoring to attack the other side of her head.

Natasha smiles down on the record and places it back in it’s bin with careful precision. “That I do, Virginia,” she says, and upon realizing her mistake turns beet red. Not many things can embarrass Natasha. She wasn’t fazed when she fell of the tire swing at Cedar Ridge and landed right in the mud, or when Kate Bishop caught the two of them making out in the storage closet a few days later. She didn’t even blink an eye when she tripped on her way out of the restaurant and knocked Steve over. The only times Pepper’s seen Natasha embarrassed is when she cries, or when she accidentally calls Pepper Virgina.

“Shit, Pepper, I’m sorry –”

Pepper smiles, tying off her second braid and getting up off her bed. “Don’t be, Tasha,” she breathes, voice gentle, and reaches out for the other girl to hug her.

Natasha falters, eyeing Pepper’s open arms warily. Pepper attempts to correct herself, retreating backwards in an attempt to be peaceful, and then Natasha’s coming at her full-speed with glassy eyes and a quivering lip. Pepper lets out a little ‘ _oof_!’ as Natasha’s toned arms make their way around her body. The sheer force of Natasha’s embrace sends the two of them falling backwards onto the hard ground below them. Natasha instinctively tries to protect the back of Pepper’s head with her hands as they fall. Pepper's ankle makes an obscene cracking sound as she makes contact with the ground, and she grounds. It’s quite dramatic for such a short fall, but it’s not like Pepper minds the fact that her body is pressed so close to her ex’s.

“Are you okay?” Natasha practically gasps as she lifts her head to check Pepper’s face for any sign of wounds. She pulls herself off of Pepper (Pepper immediately misses the contact) and reaches a hand to help the other girl up. Pepper takes it willingly, stepping onto her feet and then letting out a shriek of pain as she crumbles to the ground.

“What the hell just – oh my god, are you hurt?”

Pepper would be flattered by Natasha’s concern if she wasn’t feeling such an intensely horrible pain in her ankle. “Oh God, I think I broke my ankle,” Pepper groans, knocking her head against the carpeted floor as she lets out a pained whine.

“Wait, for real?” Natasha gasps, and leans down to gather Pepper in her arms then. Pepper winces as she’s lifted off the ground and, with some effort, transported to her bed a few feet away. Pepper tries not to take it as an insult that a girl as skilled as Natasha had trouble lifting her up for a few short seconds. “Where does it hurt?”

“ _Everywhere_ ,” Pepper whines. Natasha’s rolls her eyes and cracks a small smile at that. Why is she smiling? Pepper is seriously hurt! She could’ve broken something!

“This really isn’t funny,” Pepper mumbles, but she’s giggling despite herself.

Natasha lets out an involuntary snort, and suddenly the two of them have fallen into in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Natasha collapses onto Pepper’s bed, holding her stomach as she shakes with laughter. Pepper’s clumsy, yeah, but she may have just broken her ankle falling a few feet onto a carpet floor, and for some reason it’s the funniest thing the two of them have ever seen. Pepper’s having trouble moving, due to her current state, but she manages to playfully kick Natasha with her good foot as she lets out a howl of laughter. Natasha swats at the foot with the hand that isn’t gripping her belly, her laughs turned to barely-audible gasps as tears stream down her face and mess up her makeup. Her hand misses, hitting Pepper’s bad ankle on accident, and Pepper lets out a surprised squeak.

“Shit, Pepper,” Natasha breathes, and suddenly neither of them are laughing. “Is it that bad?”

“Yeah, I –” Pepper winces as Natasha’s fingers graze across the wound.

“C’mere,” Natasha breathes, and pulls at the other girl before she can attempt to do it herself. Natasha gathers Pepper into her arms, fingers gently caressing Pepper’s ankle, already turning a nasty blue color only after a few minutes. Pepper’s missed this gentle touch. She’s missed Natasha’s fingers on her skin. She’s missed Natasha. She’s missed everything.

“This is bad, Virgina,” Natasha murmurs, and Pepper doesn’t bother correcting her on the name. Natasha grips Pepper’s thigh with one hand in an attempt to lift the leg higher so she can inspect the wound. Pepper lets out an involuntary groan at the feeling of the other girl’s hand on her leg. Natasha stops dead in her tracks, turning to meet Pepper’s embarrassed eyes. She’s in shock. They both are.

“Shoot, Natasha, I – I didn’t mean to.”

Pepper turns away from Pepper’s gaze, and when she looks up to meet the other girl’s eyes again they’re clouded with lust. “You like that?” Natasha growls, fingernails scratching lightly across Pepper’s thigh as she does. The lighter haired girl lets out a contented sigh, hands gripping at the fabric of Natasha’s shirt, and Natasha takes that as a yes.

Natasha’s fingers begin kneading at Pepper’s legs, and then her thighs and calves and feet. She’s careful to avoid the purpling bruise, but everywhere else is fair game. They sit like that for what feels like forever, Natasha massaging Pepper’s legs and Pepper lost to the feeling of it. It should be embarrassing that she’s getting this worked up about a massage, but it’s been three years. They both want this. Pepper whimpers into Natasha’s neck as Natasha’s wandering fingers slip just under the fabric of her dress. Suddenly she can’t take another second of not kissing Natasha.

She presses her lips to Natasha’s smooth, pale neck. Each kiss stands for an ‘I love you,’ she could’ve said three years before. Of all the things she could’ve said, but didn’t. “Natasha, please kiss me,” she practically begs, and the redhead obliges.

“We should really take you to a hospital,” Natasha breathes against the taller girl’s lips. The words are empty, and speaking is just taking up time that could be spent kissing, so Pepper just wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck and slams their lips together again.

Natasha’s hands sneak up Pepper’s leg to make their way under Pepper’s dress again, but Pepper gently pulls them away and wraps them around her waist instead. They have forever to have sex. Right now, Pepper just wants to kiss.

She wants to make up for the three years they’ve spent away from each other. She wants to close her eyes and pretend everything is the same. She wants to kiss away the pain. A minute of kissing feels like a second when you’ve been waiting so long. Pepper’s done waiting.

Natasha bites down on Pepper’s lip and Pepper gasps. Natasha takes this as an invitation to slip her tongue into the other girl’s mouth. It’s not, but Pepper’s not about to complain. She moans at the feeling of Natasha exploring her mouth. It’s a feeling she’s been craving for three whole years, and suddenly it’s not such a mystery why she was never interested in anyone else.

A knock on the door interrupts them then, and Pepper lets out an exasperated sigh against Pepper’s lips.

“Is everything okay up here?” It’s Steve. “We heard a lot of screaming.”

Natasha snorts, pulling away from Natasha slightly. “We’re all right, Pepper just had a little bit of a fall.”

“Oh. Is she all right?”

“Not exactly. We think she might’ve broken something.”

“Can I come in?” Pepper can practically hear the awkwardness in Steve’s voice.

Pepper crawls off Natasha’s lap then, careful to avoid making the wound worse as she settles into the bed. She smooths her dress, running a careful hand through her hair and reaching out to tidy up Natasha’s shirt. “Sure,” she calls, and it’s not until Steve’s already opening the door that she notices the red lipstick stains on Natasha’s neck.

“Where are you hurt?” Steve mumbles, avoiding eye contact with each of them as he kneels down to inspect Pepper’s ankle. “How did this happen?”

“We were, um –” Natasha pauses, and Pepper realizes how ridiculous the story sounds. “We were hugging and we, well, fell.”

“You fell, _hugging_ ,” Tony says as he appears in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “All righty then. How bad is it, Steve?”

“I think we need to get her to the hospital,” Steve says, slipping his hands under Pepper’s knees and behind her back, and then Pepper’s being picked up bridal-style for the second time that day.

"Nice neck makeup, Natasha," Tony chuckles as they're leaving Pepper's bedroom. Natasha doesn't even bat an eyelash.


	8. And You Could Buy Up All the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Give a little,_  
>  Get a lot.  
> That's just how  
> You are with love.

Whatever spell Pepper had Natasha under before, it’s worn off now. Natasha’s sitting in the waiting room, rubbing at her red-stained neck with the sleeve of her hoodie and feeling angry as hell.

Pepper’s fine.

Well, she isn’t _fine_. She broke her ankle (and, really, she couldn’t have fallen more than four feet). But she’s getting the cast now, and the doctors say she’ll be in a boot in about six weeks. Now Natasha just needs Clint to get his lazy ass off the couch and come pick her up.

He won’t answer his phone, but he rarely does. She’s left at least eight messages and fifteen texts. Bruce is out of town and she’s not about to have Maria asking why exactly she and a girl were alone in a bedroom in the first place – no, Natasha’s definitely waiting on Clint. Rude, unreliable Clint.

Tony enters the waiting room then, clutching his phone in his hand and looking about ready to burst. Steve jumps up to check on him. “Pepper’s Dad is coming,” Tony mumbles.

“What, like _now_?”

Natasha’s never had the displeasure of meeting Mr. Potts, but from what she’s heard he works for the FBI or something and rarely comes home to see his darling daughter. Pepper spends most of her days in the bedroom Tony built for her in his house (mansion), but when her father comes home she slips into the role of obedient little girl. It’s a bit disgusting, really. What kind of guy leaves his daughter alone with a selfish genius and his butler for months on end?

Tony rolls his eyes at Natasha. “Yes, now,” he growls. “Make yourselves presentable. He’ll be here in ten.”

**\---**

Pepper’s Dad is exactly how Natasha imagined him. He’s donning a sleek, black suit and the nicest Italian shoes on the market. At least, Natasha’s guessing they are (no, she doesn’t spend her Friday nights oogling at menswear and praying to God Clint will stop being a loser and decide to try looking nice someday. That’d be _weird_ ). He introduces himself as “Virginia’s father.” Apparently the guy doesn’t have a name.

“I’m Steve,” the quarterback says, reaching out a hand for the older man to shake. Mr. Potts’ mouth curves into a smile (if it could even be called that) and he grips the blonde’s hand tight, shaking it. “I’m Tony’s –”

Tony cuts Steve off before he can finish his sentence. “He’s my best friend! And this is his, uh, girlfriend. Tasha.”

Natasha flashes Tony a confused look The genius just gives her a pleading smile and she reluctantly turns to shake Mr. Potts’ hand. Natasha plasters a wide, fake smile across her face as she says, “I’m Natasha Romanov. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Mr. Potts says gives Natasha a quick one-over, eying her outfit suspiciously. Suddenly she feels underdressed and embarrassed. Natasha can understand why Pepper values fashion so much. It’s been drilled into her brain that she _has_ to. “What a catch, Stephen.” It's the worst kind of sarcasm, because it doesn't even sound sarcastic.

“Oh, he didn’t catch me,” Natasha says faux-sweetly, standing her ground. “I’m not a fish. I’m a fisherman. Or, fisherwoman.”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Potts says, voice condescending, and turns his gaze towards Tony. “Anthony, will you point me in the direction of my daughter’s hospital room?”

Tony nods curtly, guiding the well-dressed man down the hallway. Natasha turns her gaze towards Steve, whose face is frozen in a state of surprise. She reaches out to touch his arm comfortingly. It must be painful to hear your boyfriend invalidate your relationship when you’re standing right next to him. “You okay, Rogers?”

“’M fine,” Steve mumbles, collapsing into one of the nice, leather chairs and burying his face in his hands.

After a few minutes Tony returns, sending a look of embarrassment Natasha’s way and clearing his throat. “I’m, uh, sorry about that,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he speaks. “Mr. Potts isn’t exactly the most liberal guy in the world. If he knew I liked cock he’d never let Pepper stay with me. If he knew how bad Pepper wants to touch Natasha's lady parts, he'd disown her.”

The woman at the front desk’s eyes widen in horror at Tony's choice of words, and Natasha can’t help but snort at that. She should be embarrassed, but she's herself, so that doesn't happen. Not visibly. Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out.

_im outside the hospital –CB_

“All right, well I’ll leave you guys two it,” she says, zipping up her hoodie and shoving her hands in her pockets. She turns toward Steve, giving him a sympathetic smile. She knows they'll work it out. It's Steve and Tony. “Tell Pepper I say bye. Or not. Or whatever.” And then she’s gone.

**\---**

“Your aunt’s gonna be pissed,” Clint says when she crawls into the passenger seat their shitty old minivan, and Natasha’s just glad he isn’t drunk or stoned.

“Yeah, probably.”

She settles into the front seat and stares out the window for the rest of the car ride.

By the time they reach Natasha’s apartment building it’s 1 AM. Her curfew’s eleven. “You’re coming with me,” she orders, and Clint nods. The second she crawls out of the car Clint’s reaching over to close her door and speeding away (she thinks she hears him yell, "You're on your own, bitch!" as he drives off). Natasha really does hate Clint.

She tiptoes her way up the staircase, turning her key in the door of the apartment as quietly as she can. She hugs her hoodie closer to herself as she enters Maria’s apartment. Ever since Maria gained custody of Natasha money’s been a little tight. They rarely turn the heat on, but Natasha enjoys the cold. She’s always thought she’d rather freeze to death than burn.

She’s stealthily tiptoeing toward the couch when the lights turn on, and she turns to face her perfectly groomed aunt leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “Is it broken?”

Natasha frowns. “What?”

“Your phone. Is it broken?”

“I’m so sorry Maria, stuff happened and we lost track of time, and –” “There’s no excuse for not calling,” Maria says, and reaches out her hand. “Give me your phone. You’re grounded.”

“Aunt Maria, come on,” Natasha groans, looking at her aunt’s hand with a frown.

Maria wiggles her fingers and nods toward Natasha’s phone. “This phone is a privilege, and as of now you haven’t earned it.”

Natasha groans, slapping her phone into her aunt’s hand, and jumps onto the pullout couch, wrapping herself in blankets and pouting so much she's starting to feel like Clint.

The lights turn off. Maria mumbles a quiet, remorseful, “Goodnight,” and Natasha listens as she enters her room and gets into bed. She’s never missed her parents more.

She waits half an hour until she’s sure her Aunt must be asleep. And then she sneaks out.


End file.
